I now walk the same walk everyday,
I walk this walk at the same time.
Around five, the sun reclining
and the day subsiding.
The path is now trodden,
door and back to door.
My eyes seek more,
fallen blackthorn boasting blossom,
swollen clogs of mud, tilled and flattened
into one dark stroke. Celandine,
yellow and gentle.
I now walk the same walk everyday
I walk at the same time.
The days now look the same
almost as if they rhyme.